


Blood on your hands

by Ely_Pines



Series: The Ultimate Voltron S8 AU [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hunk & Keith (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) Needs a Hug, I couldn't pick somebody worse for that prompt, I'm a terrible person, M/M, Multi, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 04:30:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely_Pines/pseuds/Ely_Pines
Summary: Days 2: Bloody hands





	Blood on your hands

“You killed him!”

Albeit coming from a really old lady, that sentence had echoed through the whole large square and every merchants and customers grouped there in the open market had turned their head toward her. Quickly, thought, voices rose up and people gathered to calm her down - if not shut her up - and drag her away.

“How can you say something like that, old woman?” people asked and also : “No, boy, she didn’t mean it!” to the person said woman was talking to - attacking rather.

But the old lady - of the Galran race - rose her purple and thin finger and pointed it at the Paladin while making her voice even louder.

“You killed him!” she repeated and she was more spitting than properly talking. “You are the one who did it! Do you think my boy got enlisted in Sendak’s army for fun? But of course you didn’t care when you shoot him mid-air! I don’t even have a body to bury! Because of you! You!”

Eventually, the people there, who came from all over the Universe, managed to take the Galran mother away from the square. Some stayed around the Paladin to express their sorrys and, above all, to tell him not to take notice of what that “crazy old witch” was saying.

“You saved us all” they reminded him. “That’s everything that matters.”

His family - his mother and his sister - took his arms gently and pressed tightly - he could feel their warmth.

“Come on, sugar” said his mother “don’t think about it anymore.”

But that was all that Hunk could think about.

 

They made their way back home. Hunk was carrying the bags full of supplies - though his mother and sister had their own share of weight to deal with. The flat was in pretty bad shape for a regular human being of Earth four years ago but completely decent for those who had suffered from the Galran invasion. The first step of the reconstruction was putting a roof over everybody’s head, not garnishing their houses with TV. Still, this emplacement had a solid advantage: it was a three minutes’ walk away from the hospital.

Hunk - as well as the other Paladins - weren’t yet authorized to spent more than a day outside the hospital. While their families decided to visit them on an almost daily basis - so they never had to go out, they also found close flats to move in so the Paladin could enjoy some fresh air after all. Thus, Hunk and his family had gotten used to him going back home every Wednesday and Sunday. They’d usually go the the open-air market - kind of the only one you could go to - enjoying both the varieties of supplies available and the little chat with the people of as various races as their products. Then they’d head home and cook whatever felt good to eat on the moment. Hunk never forgot to bake more than needed so he could take some back to the other Paladins. It was nice days - relaxing days.

Except for today. Today went all wrong.

Hunk put the bags on the kitchen table and looked at his hands.

“Is that true? Am I a murderer?”

He felt like shivering (though it wasn’t cold inside, even without heaters).

“Oh, sugar!” said her mother before coming up and wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on his cheek.

“You certainly not. You’re my baby son - and a hero!”

Her sister, who had started unpacking the supplies they had just bought, stopped for a moment and from across the table, put her hand on his.

“That woman” she said “was crazy.”

Hunk looked up at her, frowning. She continued.

“We all went though losses. Everyone of us. And for some... it makes them lose their mind. Don’t take it personally. She just want someone to blame and since Sendak is dead... well, you just happened to be there.”

She threw a fruit to him - something pear-shaped and orangey with green dots - and he caught it by reflex.

“Come on, Paladin!” her sister said “let’s make this cinnamon and citrus rolls that we used to do for Nan’s birthday!”

He chuckled lightly while looking at the strange fruit.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ll be able to call that cinnamon and citrus rolls since that is definitively not cinnamon or citrus, but I’d say it’s worth trying!”

 

***

 

The door slid open smoothly and Hunk entered what they called the “cafeteria” - the biggest room on their floor where they had put some couches and cushions, a table, a mini-bar and even an oven so that the Yellow Paladin could continue his cooking for them all.

The Cafet’ was empty except for Keith, sprawling on the nearest couch, attempting to read a book (with his head down, that didn’t quite seem like the most efficient reading position). When Hunk took the seat next to him, he sat up and looked at him with a questioning frown. Hunk handed him over one of the rolls he had just made, neatly wrapped up in a napkin. Keith’s face brightened as he took the pastry and shoved it in his mouth.

“Hunk, that’s so delicious!” he exclaimed while still chewing.

Hunk blushed and wriggled on his seat.

“Oh you know... It’s basic cooking, really.”

“Damn, I would be glad if I ever have that basic cooking!”

The young man picked up his book with one hand, sucking meticulously the fingers of his other hand, one by one.

Hunk’s smile dropped. He opened his mouth a few times but no words came out. Finally, he sighed and the noise drew Keith’s attention back to him.

“You okay, buddy?” asked the leader of Voltron.

The boy almost nodded under the force of habit but this time... This time, it was too much. When a single tear ran across his cheek, Keith immediately dropped his book and rushed to his side, gripping his arm.

“Hey! Hey, Hunk! What’s wrong?”

More tears ran down his chubby cheeks before he splat it all out; the open-air market, the old lady and the horrible sentence she had told him. He ended curled up on the couch, pressing his hands to his crying eyes.

“Keith, what did we do?!”

Keith’s face had darkened as Hunk had being talking. He still had his hand on Hunk’s elbow but he was staring blankly at the wall beneath them.

“What we had to do, Hunk.” he said, his voice hoarse. “That’s how war goes.”

Hunk snorted and rose his head to meet Keith’s eyes.

“Is that what you tell yourself?” he asked.

Keith didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

They both fell silent. Hunk looked back at his hands. It was almost as if he could actually see it, see the blood they were stained all over with. What made it worse was the memories of the battles. Some were tough - tough enough to have them fear they wouldn’t make it alive - but beyond the stress and the apprehension for both themselves and their team mates, it always had been a matter of excitation.

Every time Hunk had entered his Lion, he had felt excited. Flying in Yellow had always been such a amazing experience - not even added the fact that the two of them had _literally bonded_  over the months and the battles. How could he have forgotten that the Lions were nothing more than war machines? They always had been, heck, they were designed to be war machines. To destroy ships and every one of their inhabitants. Defenders of the Universe? Let me laugh.

The Paladins had been killing people for months now.

“Well. It really sucks.”

Keith nodded.

“Yeah. I know.”

Hunk spent another half of an hour in the Cafet’ - Keith started to read again - before getting back to his feet and exiting the common room. He headed to his bedroom and looked out the window.

The city was nothing but rubble. Not one skyscraper still stood above the streets, untouched. There were canvasses everywhere, to make up for the broken windows, the collapsed roofs and the missing doors. Most people slept on the ground, in giant dormitories because they were overcrowded by the inflow of extra-terrestrial beings. Over time, obviously, things would settle themselves. Step two of the Reconstruction. Things would get better, that was for sure. But not before all the Galra Warlords had been defeated. How much more time did that make? How much more blood on their hands ?

How many more nightmares?

 

Hunk didn’t sleep well that night.

 

Not that any of them slept well on nights, for all it matters.


End file.
